Pro & Con
by Lady Lightwood
Summary: A 15 year-old Neal Caffrey loses control of "his" car while in possession of a stolen and forged painting. He is then caught by FBI agent Peter Burke, who soon learns that nothing is easy with a conman. Especially a teenaged Neal Caffrey with secrets he has no intention of giving up anytime soon. No slash, just a father/son relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**White Collar**_**…**

* * *

"Stop him!" Agent Peter Burke's furious voice called into the radio.

"Peter!" Agent Jones said, his voice tinged with worry and concern.

"What is it?"

"Caffrey. His car spun out of control. We're heading there now."

"What the hell was a fifteen year-old doing driving a car? And how does he know_ how_ to drive a car?!" Peter demanded as he slid into his car, angrily twisting the key and pulling out, the tires squealing on the pavement.

"He grabbed it on the way out and it is Neal Caffrey we're talking about. He's got a $50,000 painting on him." Peter heard Diana yell something in the background as Jones yelped. Judging by what Diana was saying, Peter guessed that the driver had made some sort of error and now Diana was reading him the riot act.

"Alright I'm here-" Peter said, and stopped, freezing in horror as he took in the sight before him.

The car was a large piece of twisted metal on the tarmac, flames licking at the front where the engine was. He couldn't even see Neal Caffrey in the wreckage.

Jones met him at the edge of the caution tape.

"It's about to blow. I wouldn't go in there," he cautioned.

"So we're just going to let him explode?" Peter demanded. He angrily pushed past Jones and ducked under the caution tape. He saw that the flames were licking even higher at the car, the metal starting to burn and melt. He broke into a run, hearing footsteps on the ground behind them, and instantly knowing them to be Diana's and Jones'.

"Neal!" Peter yelled as he dropped to his knees, frantically pulling at the seatbelt restraining Neal's limp body. He pressed the seatbelt and it finally broke loose, allowing Neal to slide forward into his arms. Together, Diana and Jones managed to pull Peter back from the burning car.

He stumbled to his feet with Neal cradled in his arms and ran, ducking under the safety of the caution tape, just as the car finally exploded in an enormous ball of flames.

"Neal!" Peter tried to wake Neal, the fifteen year-old finally stirring, his eyes weakly fluttering open.

He saw the agent leaning over him and immediately panicked. He thrashed in an uncoordinated, un-Caffrey-like way. For all the times Peter had ever seen him (mainly on a security camera), the kid had been all fluid and grace. Now he was more like a wounded animal, struggling because he was scared. Diana and Jones each moved to help Peter subdue Neal, each agent holding down a different part of Neal's body. Feeling the different hands on him, probably hurting him even more, Neal started to hyperventilate, his eyes widening and his chest heaving as he struggled for breath.

"Easy Neal, easy" Peter spoke calmly, running one hand through Neal's dark hair. Jones and Diana also released their grip, Diana immediately starting to check Neal for injuries.

"Ambulance ETA is 5 minutes," Jones said.

Neal tried to curl up, whimpering as Diana gently straightened him out.

"Neal relax, you might have spinal injuries" she said gently.

Neal shook his head "no", and let out a choked sob, as the movement obviously pained him.

"Jones, see if that ambulance can get here any sooner" Peter growled.

"Peter, he's got bad injuries on his wrists, hands, and torso. It looks like one of his wrists is possibly fractured and a few of his ribs are also fractured. He must have a concussion as well."

Peter nodded and looked up as he heard sirens wail and he saw the ambulance pull in. Neal saw the flashing lights reflecting on the pavement and he resumed struggling, managing to sit up, but immediately crying out in pain as his ribs protested at the sudden movement. Peter caught him and lowered him back on the ground.

"Shhh…Neal it's okay. You're gonna be fine" Peter was still trying to comfort Neal as the paramedics stepped around him and efficiently started to work on Neal, transferring him to a gurney.

"P'ter" Neal spoke for the first time, his blue eyes wide and scared as he tried to reach for Peter.

"I'm going with him" Peter stepped forward. One of the EMT's looked over and nodded briefly, before continuing what he was doing.

* * *

By the time they got Neal to the hospital, he had an IV in his arm, an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, and Peter's hand firmly clutched in his.

He wouldn't let go even when the doctors tried to separate him and Peter.

"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to leave" one of the doctors firmly tried to pull apart the conman and the federal agent.

"No" Neal's fingers whitened as he clung to Peter.

"Neal, I'm sorry" Peter regretfully loosened his grip, doing his best to ignore Neal's sobs.

"No!" Neal managed to fight off most of the doctors and lunged forward, trying to keep Peter from leaving. The agent bit his lip and turned, about to go to Neal, when one of the doctors managed to inject a sedative into the back of Neal's neck. The conman let out a cry, his fingers immediately going up to the spot where the needle had pierced his skin.

Peter lost no time in hurrying back to Neal's side and gathering the young conman in his arms. For some reason he couldn't quite place, Peter was actually feeling sorry for the kid. And then he remembered the painting that Neal forged and stole.

Glancing down, he realized Neal had fallen asleep in his arms, courtesy of the sedative.

"You can see him when we're finished" one of the nurses efficiently steered Peter away from Neal. Peter nodded numbly, fishing in his pocket as his phone began to ring.

Glancing at caller-ID, he answered.

"Hughes?"

* * *

***TBC**

**Thanks for reading. Please feel free to leave a review. I will be updating this within the next week. :D**


	2. Chapter 2

"_**Hughes?"**_

* * *

"We have an issue. Neal has no place to stay."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked.

"He is younger than 18 and is therefore still considered a juvenile. And we can't process him until next week, at the earliest."

"Can't he stay at the hospital?"

"No. The bureau wants Caffrey to stay at a foster home, preferably with one of the agents."

Peter groaned. He knew where this conversation was going. He briefly considered asking Jones or Diana, but he knew both of them would object.

"Alright. I'll take him. How long will this be for?"

"Only a few days or so." Hughes hung up. Peter sighed, at least El probably wouldn't mind it.

Peter hung up as well and glanced up as a doctor came in.

"Agent Peter Burke?" she asked, looking around at the faces of the people in the waiting room for some sign of recognition. Peter wearily ran a hand across his face and stood up.

"Are you Mr. Caffrey's parent?"

"He's in my...custody" Peter responded, following the doctor into Neal's room.

"I'm his doctor, Dr. Maryse Carton. Mr. Caffrey has sustained a fractured wrist and ribs, concussion, but nothing too serious. He is lucky" she lowered her voice, noticing Neal was asleep.

"Thanks. Uh, how soon can he be released?" Peter asked.

"Probably in the morning, but I will need to release him to a guardian and know that he is being cared for. His concussion is not severe, but if there are any complications, he will need to be brought back" she smiled and left the room, gently closing the door behind her.

Peter sank into the chair next to Neal's bed. The kid looked so innocent as he slept, not at all how Peter would have imagined him to look. When he had first started chasing the conman, he had pictured Neal to be at least forty and having had years to practice his "art". He was surprised and rather concerned when he found Neal to be fifteen and definitely alone.

"Neal" Peter leaned forward and spoke firmly. He wanted some answers out of the young conman.

Neal's head rolled to the side and his eyelids fluttered as he murmured something. He flinched and his head lolled back to the other side. Peter shook Neal's shoulder, but to no avail. Neal's breathing only increased and his hands clenched the blankets. Peter finally gave a light slap to Neal's cheek, the conman's eyes finally flying open to reveal brilliant blue eyes that were filled with terror.

"Neal. Look at me. Just breathe. In and out" Peter spoke firmly, and Neal tried to obey, his chest heaving in desperate gasps as struggled to slow his breaths. Peter put his hand on the back of Neal's neck and pulled him forward so that he was leaning against Peter.

Neal's shaking hands clutched at Peter's shirt and after a few minutes of huddling against the agent, he raised his head.

"Peter?"

"We're not on a first name basis yet." Peter reprimanded the kid, instantly feeling bad for sounding so harsh.

Neal shrugged, trying as much as possible to put on his mask.

"Seemed like you had a nightmare" Peter posed the statement as a question, to which Neal didn't answer.

"Answer me" Peter said firmly.

"Nothing" Neal's eyes were exhausted and dull.

"Alright, get some rest" Peter said, deciding to put the question to rest, at least for the moment. He knew he didn't mistake the relieved gleam in Neal's eyes as the kid rolled away from him, pulling the blankets over his shoulder.

"I'll be back in the morning," he said as he stood up. Peter didn't exactly think he needed to tell Neal that he would be released in the morning. Especially since he knew Neal to be extremely skilled in escape.

* * *

"Hey hon" Peter smiled as he let himself into the house. He hung his coat up and bent down to pat Satchmo who came trotting over to greet him, tail wagging and a doggy grin on his face.

"Hey, mmm…" El kissed him, "how was work?" she asked as she dried her hands on a towel.

Peter took a deep breath, and fidgeted. For some reason he could lie to almost anyone. Except for El.

"Hon, there's something I want to talk to you about."

"What?" El looked at him rather suspiciously.

"Hughes wants me to do him a favor."

"Yes?"

"Neal Caffrey's coming to stay with us."

El looked at Peter disbelievingly. He only nodded.

"Hon, that's wonderful! I'll get the guest bedroom ready. What's his favorite color? Would he prefer blue or-" Peter quickly cut her off.

"El, did you hear what I said?"

"Yes. Neal Caffrey, the teenager that I've shared at least a year of my life with is staying at our house. Oh, and for how long?"

"Elizabeth, he's a criminal."

"I know. Why else would you have been chasing him?" she looked at Peter as though he was the insane one.

Peter threw his hands up in despair and stalked over to the couch and sat down with a thump. The look on El's face softened and she went to sit next to her husband, putting a comforting hand on his back.

"Hon, what is it?"

"Nothing" Peter shook his head and smiled. He still couldn't shake that nagging feeling that there was something off about Neal.

* * *

The next morning he arrived at the hospital to find Neal sitting on his bed, feet dangling over the side.

"Morning" Peter resisted the urge to ruffle Neal's hair. Neal looked up and gave the agent a wan and fleeting smile.

"Good morning Agent Burke" Dr. Carton stepped into the room, "may I speak to you for a moment?"

Peter nodded and followed her out of Neal's room.

"I'm concerned about Mr. Caffrey. He barely ate last night and he did not sleep well last night. I will release him today, but please make sure he eats and sleeps."

"I will." Peter nodded in consensus. He turned to see Neal, leaning against the doorway, white-faced and shaky.

"Neal, ready to go home?"

* * *

**TBC**

**Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, everyone! I'm so glad you like this story. Please feel free to review!**


	3. Chapter 3

"_**Neal, ready to go home?"**_

* * *

Neal wandered aimlessly around the bedroom that Peter's wife, El, had said was "his". He ran his fingers over the edge of the windowsill, while staring out at the street. He noticed the sketchpad and pencils someone had thoughtfully left on the nightstand. He assumed that the thoughtful person had been El. Peter didn't exactly strike him as the person to put such a personal touch in the room.

"Dinner's ready, Neal!" he heard El's voice call.

Neal slowly made his way down the stairs, his hand hovering above the banister as he paused before a picture of a much younger Peter and El. He smiled sadly, his parents had never been that happy.

He forced a cheerful smile as he sat down at the kitchen table.

"This looks great" Neal said enthusiastically as El placed a bowl of steaming soup in front of him. She looked at him sadly, not at all fooled by his tone of voice or slightly exhausted smile.

He lifted his spoon to taste the soup, but noticed Peter's eyes fastened on him like a hawk focuses on a mouse. Suddenly not so hungry, Neal put down his spoon and cleared his throat.

"So, Peter, what happens to me?" he asked.

"Well…you're coming in to work with me tomorr-" Peter stopped as his phone rang.

"Not at the dinner table" El said sternly and pointed towards the living room.

Peter nodded in apology as he picked up and walked away.

"Hughes?"

"Sorry to call so late, but there's a complication. Neal can't stay with you, OPR is demanding that he is put in a federal prison" Hughes' tone was apologetic but firm. Peter sighed and sank onto the couch.

"I thought he was still considered a delinquent" Peter hissed, taking a glance over at the kitchen table where Neal was sitting with El, a bright smile lighting up his face.

"He is, but due to the severity of his crimes OPR wants him in a maximum security. Someone from OPR is coming over to get him."

"Tonight?" Peter asked incredulously, "They do realize that Neal just got out of the hospital?"

"I'm sorry Peter. I pulled every string I could, but there was nothing I could do. The best I got was for Neal to be put in isolation. At least he won't have to share a cell."

"But-" Peter tried to speak.

"Goodnight _Agent _Burke." Hughes' tone was hard.

"Who was it?" El looked up as Peter came over to the table.

"Hughes. Neal, uh, there's something I need to tell you." Neal put down his spoon and looked at Peter expectantly.

"OPR is demanding that you are out in a prison." Peter watched worriedly as Neal's face paled and he swallowed hard.

"When?" Neal's voice cracked. Suddenly he was the fifteen year-old kid, not the talented conman.

"Tonight. They're sending someone over now."

Neal bowed his head as El and Peter looked on sympathetically. The silence was broken by a sharp knock at the door. Neal's head jerked up in terror.

El walked over slowly to the door and opened it, Satchmo trailing behind her.

"Is Neal Caffrey here?" an agent rudely pushed past El, stepped on Satchmo's tail, ignoring the dog's yelp, and stalked into the house.

"Yeah" Neal stood up shakily.

"Neal, I-" Peter stepped forward.

"Let's go. We don't have all day." The agent glared at Peter and El. Satchmo growled threateningly at the agent who grasped Neal's arm and more or less dragged the conman out of the Burkes' house.

He shoved Neal into the car, slid into the car next to Neal, and slammed the door closed. Neal couldn't see the driver's face clearly, but for some reason he looked vaguely familiar. Suddenly the driver pulled the car over and Neal tensed.

"Neal. How nice to see you again."

Neal groaned. He knew now why the man's face had looked so familiar. He was Vincent Adler, one of the men who Neal had worked for.

"What do you want, Adler?" Neal tried to make his voice sound cold.

"That canvas you had with you. Where did you put the real one?"

"You'll never get it" Neal spat venomously.

Adler only laughed and motioned to the man sitting next to Neal. Before Neal knew what was happening, the man had pressed a sickly-sweet smelling cloth over Neal's nose. The young conman struggled, but his vision went blurry, then black and he slumped sideways, unconscious after a minute.

* * *

"Peter! How could you let them take Neal like that!" El demanded angrily.

"El, hon, I had no choice, you should've heard Hughes."

El shook her head and turned away from Peter. Even Satchmo turned away from Peter with a reproachful look in his eyes.

"It wasn't my fault. I-" there was another knock at the door.

El stalked to the door and jerked open the door to admit a tall, scowling man.

"Agent Garrett Fowler. Is Neal Caffrey here?" his tone was polite, but business-like.

"Who are you?" El demanded before Peter even had a chance to speak.

"OPR. We were sent to arrest Neal Caffrey."

"But-"

"OPR was already here. They already took Neal" Peter wrapped a comforting arm around El's shoulders.

"No they didn't" Agent Fowler flashed a badge at Peter.

El and Peter shared an alarmed look.

"Are you sure?" El queried.

"Yes."

"I'm calling Hughes."

"Hughes. I have an issue. It seems Neal is not with OPR."

"What do you mean?" Hughes' voice was suspicious.

"There was a man who…" Peter told Hughes the entire story.

"Alright. I'll call OPR. Make it your priority to find Neal." There was a click as Hughes hung up.

* * *

**TBC  
**

**Thanks for reading! Please feel free to leave a review, I more or less **_**live**_** for them!**


	4. Chapter 4

"_**Alright. I'll call OPR. Make it your priority to find Neal." There was a click as Hughes hung up.**_

* * *

Neal groaned and blearily pried open his eyes. Everything was dim and blurry and Neal groaned again. He finally blinked a couple of times, bringing the room into focus.

"Hello, Neal." Adler's cold voice said from somewhere above the conman.

Neal glared with some difficulty at the man standing over him.

"Where's the painting?" Adler asked.

"Not wasting any time getting down to business, are you?" Neal commented with a grimace.

Adler's only reply was to smile. Neal tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, he was sure whatever Adler had planned for him was going to be torturous.

* * *

"I can't believe I let him take Neal" Peter buried his head in his hands, guilt all but consuming him. After several exhausting hours, Jones and Diana had managed to pull several files and identify the man who had kidnapped Neal. Now Peter was reading all of the documents, trying to find the slightest clue as to Neal's whereabouts.

El said nothing and wrapped her arm around her husband's shoulders, resting her chin comfortably on Peter's shoulder. Peter sighed and shifted through the mess of papers on the table. He paused when he came to a form he hadn't seen before.

"El, what is this?" he asked.

El immediately assumed a look of innocence and started to stand up. Peter, however, saw straight through her "innocent" look and simply scowled, waiting for El's answer.

"It's an adoption form." El explained.

"I can see that. Who's it for? I already thought we had a child," Peter said as he gestured to Satchmo. The yellow Lab looked up and woofed at his "father".

"It is- was for Neal."

"Why?" Peter asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

El didn't answer.

* * *

"Neal."

Neal glared at the speaker. He had lost all track of time since Adler had kidnapped him and he was trying to not show how much that unnerved him.

"I found something very interesting" Adler smiled coldly and held up his phone. Neal abruptly paled at the image on the screen.

"No" he whispered, "where did you find this?"

Adler said nothing, and only laughed.

"You're really taking this whole villain thing a little far" Neal tried to sound cocky. He would've crossed his arms, but they were bound behind the chair he was in.

Adler frowned and Neal smirked, he knew how to irritate the man. However he wasn't prepared for the stinging slap that Adler dealt him. Neal bit his lip, the slap hadn't exactly hurt him, but it had surprised him. And Neal wasn't exactly fond of surprises, especially ones that involved slapping.

"Ow" Neal said sarcastically.

"I'll give you some time to think about it."

Adler turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, leaving the young conman alone.

* * *

"Peter! I think you'll wanna see this" Diana had a grin on her face as she handed Peter a slip of paper.

"What is it?" Peter's tone was fatigued.

Diana only smiled as Peter scanned the document. The FBI agent's eyes widened as he read the paper.

"Where did you find this?" he asked incredulously.

"Jones. He's very good at looking for things."

"So we know where Neal is?"

"Well, if Vincent Adler still has the gallery, Neal should be there" Diana replied.

"Get a team going and-" Peter stood up, hurriedly grabbing his jacket.

"Already on it, boss."

* * *

They pulled up outside an elegant façade, with several pieces of beautiful art in the windows. Peter raised his eyebrows at it.

"This does not look like a place a man like Vincent Adler would keep a hostage."

Diana shrugged, and started across the street towards the gallery. Peter followed hers, followed by Jones.

"Hello?" a pretty young woman stopped them at the door.

"Agent Peter Burke," Peter flashed his badge at the gallery attendant. She paled and motioned them in.

"Wh-What can I do for you?" she asked nervously.

"We'd like to speak to Mr. Adler."

"I-I-I'm sorry. Mr. Adler isn't here right now."

Peter pushed past her and stalked towards the back of the gallery. The attendant followed him, feebly protesting the whole time.

"Mr. Adler!" Peter rapped sharply on an office labeled 'V. Adler'.

There was a rustling noise inside and the door opened. Peter nodded to Diana, who stepped forward.

"Mr. Adler, I'm Diana Barrigan. We'd like to ask you a few questions." Diana said this all with a frosty smile, as Peter quietly slipped away.

"Come in" Adler invited her, his eyes cold.

* * *

Peter started to jog, thankful that the gallery was closed for the day and no one was there. He found the door labeled 'Staircase A' and quickly pulled it open. They thought that Adler would keep Neal in the basement, that was, _if _Neal was actually there. Peter had thought that Adler would be smarter than to keep Neal in New York.

Finally reaching the end of the staircase, Peter remembered the floor plan he had gone over the night before and took a left, his jog turning into a sprint. As he went further down the hallway, the lights started to grow dimmer and the sound of trickling water reached Peter's ears.

"Neal!" he yelled, hoping that the conman was somewhere down there and that none of Adler's henchmen were down there.

He halted for a moment, panting hard. From one of the doors he heard something that sounded like a groan. Praying that it was Neal, Peter started trying every door along the corridor. All of them were unlocked. Each room contained various boxes of artwork, which Peter assumed were fakes.

The last room was unlocked as well and Peter yanked the door open.

* * *

**TBC**

**Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and favorited this story! I'd love to know what you think, so please leave a review! I'd also love to know if you have any ideas you'd like to have incorporated into this story!**


	5. Chapter 5

_**The last room was unlocked as well and Peter yanked the door open.**_

* * *

"Neal!" Peter yelled. The room was completely pitch black and Peter was praying that Neal was in there. He took a few tentative steps forward, muttering a curse as he bumped into something. There was a groan and Peter froze where he was, wondering if this was all a trap and he had just walked into it.

He reached out with frantic hands, first coming into contact with a leg, then a torso and finally a hand. There was a weak groan and finally Peter scrabbled in his pocket for his phone. He turned it on, the screen giving a faint light and casting a glow on the person in front of him.

"Neal" Peter shook Neal's shoulder; worry increasing when Neal didn't respond.

He gently patted Neal's pale cheek, barely registering the fact that Neal was much too warm. Neal's blue eyes finally sliding open to gaze at Peter with a glassy, delirious stare. He finally registered the FBI agent crouched in front of him and his eyes widened in panic and he fought against the restraints, struggling to get away.

"Hey Neal, relax. You're okay" Peter tried to soothe Neal, but the young conman had firmly gotten it into his mind that Peter was still chasing him. Peter focused on undoing the restraints that held Neal, trying to ignore the kid's hoarse screams of terror. Peter finally broke through all of the straps and gathered Neal in his arms, rocking him. He rubbed Neal's back, calming him down.

"'M sowwy" Neal sobbed, his arms wrapped around Peter's neck. Peter gently rubbed his back and kept rocking him, until Neal's sobs had faded to exhausted whimpers.

Peter slowly stood up, helping Neal to his feet, immediately catching him when Neal's knees buckled under him. He slid his arms under Neal's back and knees, carrying the young conman bridal style.

Neal coiled his arms around Peter's neck as though he was a lifeline and clung to him as Peter walked through the hall and back up the stairs.

"Thank you Mr. Adler" Diana smiled frostily as Vincent politely threw her out of his office. She saw Peter with Neal in his arms and nodded.

"And you're under arrest" she said, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and handed them to Jones.

Adler's face was a mixture of shock and cold anger as Jones handcuffed him and read him his rights.

"Boss, I already called 911" Diana gently brushed a few strands of hair from Neal's face.

* * *

"Sir" one of the paramedics motioned towards Neal. Peter shook his head, there was no way in hell he would let go of his kid.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but we're going to need to put him on a stretcher."

Peter finally registered the medic's words and gently laid Neal down on the stretcher, the white blankets almost the same shade as his skin. The EMT's worked over Neal getting him hooked up to various medical equipment and loading him into the ambulance. Peter jumped up after them, insisting that he ride with them.

During the entire ride to the hospital, Neal held on to Peter's hand, reminding the federal agent of the time he had caught Neal. Neal had not let go of his hand then either.

They were separated at the ER, both forcing themselves to remain calm as Neal was wheeled away.

It wasn't long before a doctor came into the waiting room. Peter had spent a half hour pacing the waiting room, and the time he had waited seemed like an eternity.

"Someone for Neal Caffrey?" the doctor called.

Peter had hurried over questions already erupting. The doctor held up a placating hand and smiled.

"Mr. Caffrey will be fine with a few days rest. He is seriously dehydrated and we have him on fluids. However that is not too serious. I am more concerned about the various scars he has on his back and torso. Some of them look very recent" here the doctor narrowed his eyes and looked at Peter with an inquiring glance.

Peter quickly put two and two together and immediately realized what the doctor was thinking.

"Neal is a…consultant for the FBI. And he…ah…was…assisting us on one of the cases. He was quite seriously injured."

The doctor nodded, not firmly convinced, but convinced enough to let Peter see Neal.

Neal was sitting up in bed, propped against the pillows. He gave a wan smile as Peter walked in.

"Feeling better?"

"I don't like needles in me" Neal said plaintively.

"You wanna drink your orange juice?" Peter asked, sarcasm tingeing his voice. Neal mustered a glare.

"El's smuggling some food in later, if you think you can handle it."

"Taking some tips from me?" Neal asked with a small sparkle in his eyes.

"My lovely wife is bringing you some of her delicious food and all you can focus on is the word "smuggle"?"

"Sometimes it's good to be a little bad" Neal smirked.

Peter rolled his eyes, however sophisticated Neal could sometimes be, he was still just a teenager.

"Neal…there's something I need to talk to you about. What was in or on that painting?"

"Nothing" Neal shifted.

"Neal…my bosses at the FBI will stop at almost nothing to get the answer from you. And don't lie to me. Why was Vincent Adler so desperate to get his hands on the painting?" Peter's voice was firm.

"I-It was only a painting. Nothing more. It was just something special to his wife…"

Peter raised his eyebrows at this but any further questioning was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Hello, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. The doctor will be coming in a minute" a young female nurse stuck her head around the door. Peter nodded and stood.

"This isn't the end of it, Neal," he warned as he left.

"Neal" the nurse hissed once Peter left.

"Alex? What are you doing here?" Neal pushed himself a little bit more.

"Where were you? I've been looking for you everywhere!" Alex glared at him. Neal only sighed, he knew she was just worried about him.

"I'm fine, Alex. Really."

"Oh yeah, and you say that with the FBI hot on your tail?!"

* * *

**Me: Hi there, and thanks for reading! As always, please feel free to leave a comment and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. On a bit of a more serious note, I received a review that said that the person felt Vincent Adler's act of slapping Neal was violent. However this was not my intention at all, I wanted to use that to show how desperate Adler was to get his hands on the painting and how important the painting is. Just wanted to say this, but thank you to that anonymous person for commenting! Okay, until next time, see you then! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

"_**Oh yeah, and you say that with the FBI hot on your tail?!"**_

* * *

"Yes, Alex" Neal rolled his blue eyes.

"Did you not even think that Burke'll arrest you at the first chance he'll get?!" Alex was doing her best to keep her voice down, but her frustration was building by the second. Neal couldn't help thinking about how alluring she looked, her dark honey-colored hair in waves and her eyes sparking.

"He's not that-" Neal bit his lip, suppressing the feeling to need to defend Peter. He just played with his IV line instead.

"He's not that what? Not that into arresting you? Not that into arresting _us_?" Alex folded her arms and glared rather menacingly at Neal. He shrugged weakly, not really wanting to reply.

"Fine. Have it your own way. I'm leaving" Alex jerked the door open and slammed it behind her. Neal sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, he knew Alex would come back sooner or later. As Alex left in a huff, Peter slipped back into the room with folded arms and a scowl rather similar to Alex's.

"What was that all about?" he asked, rather suspiciously.

"Nothing. Said something cheeky and she got upset" Neal grinned impudently; doing his best to act like it was nothing.

"She an acquaintance?" Peter asked, a shadow of doubt still cast over his face.

"Nope. Never saw her before. But you gotta admit, she's gorgeous."

Peter rolled his eyes. Only Caffrey would say that.

"I mean it, that-"

"Neal" Peter gently cut the young conman off.

"What's up?" Neal asked, apprehensively noticing the worry on Peter's face.

"We really need to talk. About Adler. About the painting. About everything."

"Alright…what do you want to know?" Neal said slowly. He knew Peter was trying to coax the information out of him, rather than flat out interrogate him, but it wasn't really working. Especially since Neal had already caught onto it and, according to what Peter had said last time, they hadn't even gotten started.

"Tell me about the painting. Why you had it, where you were going, and who was going to get it."

Neal opened his mouth and Peter held up a hand and Neal snapped his mouth closed.

"And don't give me any of that crap about Adler's wife. The guy wasn't married."

Neal fiddled with the blankets and looked down at his lap. He looked up at the ceiling, at the floor, the door, in fact he looked everywhere except for Peter. And for the first time, Peter realized that Neal, the ever-sleek and immaculate conman was scared to admit the truth.

"It had something in it" Neal finally blurted out. Peter raised his eyebrows at this and waited for Neal to continue.

"An expensive diamond. It's supposed to be the twin of the Hope diamond. It's blue."

"But why did Adler want it so much? And for that matter, why does the entire world want it?" Peter asked.

"It's worth a lot."

Peter glared mutinously at Neal.

"I figured that much" he growled.

"It's supposed to be part of a larger thing. There's supposedly a great fortune in art, hidden somewhere that the diamond leads to." Neal sighed.

"And you were going to find it?" Peter pressed.

"No. The diamond wasn't in the painting" Neal looked up for the first time since he and Peter had started talking.

"So that's why you let it burn?"

"I didn't want to. It was a gorgeous piece." Neal fidgeted.

"Yeah. Well sometimes you can't judge a book by its cover" Peter stood up, "I'll see you in the morning kid. Try not to get into any trouble."

"Peter" Neal gave him a patronizing glare and held up his arm, a shiny handcuff attached to his slim wrist and the bedrail.

"I know you could pick it" Peter didn't even bother to look at Neal's smirking face and closed the door behind him, less loudly than Alex, but still powerfully enough to be classified as a "slam".

* * *

"Hon, I'm home!" Peter called out as he rubbed Satchmo's ears. Strangely enough, he was in a remarkably good mood. With everything that had happened in the past month, he was looking forward to a night of relaxing with his wife and dog.

"Hello" El kissed him and pulled back, smiling.

"What is it?" Peter asked, warily. He noted the fancy black dress and heels she was wearing and vaguely wondered if she had invited someone over. He hoped she hadn't.

"Satch, go show daddy." El bent down and stage-whispered this to the yellow lab that happily trotted off in the general direction of the kitchen.

Peter trailed behind his dog, El poking and prodding him every so often, just to keep him moving. He stopped when he saw the kitchen table. It was covered with a pearly white tablecloth and there were long tapered candles at either end, their flames flickering merrily. El's favorite porcelain had been laid out and there was a steaming plate of something in the middle of the table.

"Hon, what's this for?" he asked, completely surprised.

"To celebrate."

"Celebrate what? Did I forget your birthday or our anniversary?" he asked, suddenly worried.

"No, hon" El rolled her eyes, "_your_ birthday."

Peter smiled, trust El to remember his birthday and surprise him. He took his seat and shook out the white linen napkin onto his lap. Across the table El smiled happily, the light reflecting off her silver jewelry. The meal was quiet and rather subdued until El asked him about work and Neal.

"So hon, when's Neal getting out of the hospital?" El asked.

"Tomorrow. Hughes is thinking about putting him in juvie."

"For what?"

"Well he was in possession of a stolen painting." Peter pointed out drily. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded, and dinner forgotten.

"How do you know he stole it?" El challenged.

"I have a confession."

"You interrogated him?" El asked, outraged.

"No. I didn't have to, he told me." Peter held up his phone, "And I recorded the whole thing."

"What are you going to do?" she asked softly.

"Give it to Hughes in the morning" Peter's reply was instantaneous.

"Hon…are you sure Neal deserves this?"

"El, he's a criminal. Of course I think he deserves it."

"I know, but…"

"But what?" Peter had a sinking feeling about where this conversation was going.

"I thought we could adopt him." El looked Peter straight in the eye.

"Hon, we already have a child" Peter protested and gestured to Satchmo.

"Peter. I want to adopt him." El's tone was firm.

"El we can't just-" Peter already knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"Peter, please. Do it for me, if not for Neal."

"Oh it's definitely not for Neal."

* * *

**Moi- I just wanted to say a HUMONGOUS thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favorited/followed this story. It means so much to me! :) Just a heads up, there will be about 5 more chapters or so left for this story. **


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